One nightmare haunted her.

  The girl jolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, her ears still ringing from her own scream. Each time, the vision became more vivid, reawakening the fears of the past. The only difference now was that she understood the consequences, yet, captivated by the unfolding story, she remained powerless to change anything.

  She greedily pressed her lips to a bottle of soothing mixture that had been prepared in advance. As the cool, sweet liquid dulled the bitterness of her memories, yellow pinpoint lights flickered on in her room, triggered by movement.

  A man slumped into the hard chair opposite her bed. Thick stubble obscured his features, but his eyes revealed their shared kinship. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded red uniform, clearly overdue for a change. His greasy, unkempt blond hair stuck out in all directions, and his sunken blue eyes gleamed feverishly.

  “Did you see her again?” the man asked, his voice betraying a barely concealed longing.

  “Mhm,” she confirmed, setting the empty bottle down. She braced herself for his next question, though it never got easier.

  “Open the rift. Just for a second. That’ll be enough to at least make sure.” His trembling hands gripped the iron frame of her simple bed, bending the bars. The bed didn’t budge, bolted to the floor by steel brackets like everything else in this place. “My work is paying off. You’ll see! Soon, we’ll be able to control this power.”

  The wild look in his eyes hurt her as much as his words. Turning away, she replied in an emotionless voice, though her heart bled: “No.”

  He threw his hands up in frustration, his eyes darting around.

  “This time will be different…”

  “I don’t want to take that risk,” she interrupted.

  “You didn’t care about the risk last time! What does it matter now? There’s nothing left of the world anyway!” he shouted, his voice cracking. His chest heaved, veins bulging at his temples. But the outburst faded quickly, and his expression shifted to one of surprise, as if he had just realized where he was. He looked at her, his mouth slightly open.

  “Don’t,” she stopped him from apologizing. He was right, and it wasn’t her place to lament any unfairness.

  The man collapsed into the chair as if the spring holding him together had snapped. He covered his eyes with his hand, but not quickly enough for her to miss the stubborn flicker in his gaze. This conversation would happen again, just like it had many times before.

  “I didn’t come here to argue. It’s out of control again.”

  Getting out of bed was no easy task. What should have been restful sleep had only drained her further. She wiped her face with a damp towel and, without changing out of the gray jumpsuit she had collapsed in the night before, headed for the exit.

  “Rest. You’ve become too engrossed in your research,” she said quietly.

  The door hissed open before her, and she stepped into the bright light. In her mind, she imagined her father offering some parting words she hadn’t caught due to the door’s hiss.

  But no, his words reached her clearly: “Seraphima.” Her full name struck her like a slap. “Watch over him. This must not happen again.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied.

  ***

  The colossal underground complex, jokingly called the “labyrinth” by its inhabitants, was unaffected by day or night. Production and duty shifts blurred into a monotonous cycle, merging into what felt like one endlessly long day. The people who had cut themselves off from the outside world found meaning in survival through this illusion of stability.

  Strips of neon lights on the ceiling signaled the transition to a new cycle in this unrelenting routine. Slowly, the main tunnel filled with weary workers. The human stream flowed toward the moving platforms that, like blood, circulated throughout the base, heading toward the upper levels, closer to the surface, where the residential sectors and communal areas were located.

  Seraphima was the only one moving against the diverse flow of people. The residents of the central and auxiliary sectors, each in their preferred work attire, parted as she passed. Casual conversations faded into tense silence, only to erupt into excited whispers behind her. In a place where nothing ever seemed new, and with no news from the surface, observers like her became prime fodder for gossip.

  “I completely lost track of time,” she thought in frustration, lowering her head, trying to shield herself from the unwanted attention behind her tousled wheat-colored hair.

  She quickened her pace; only a few flights of stairs separated her from the restricted sector, but they felt as long as the fifty-seven levels—the distance from the surface to the zero level.

  At the entrance to the restricted sector, a group of employees had gathered, waiting for a representative from the Core Control Department to deliver materials. She knew she should hurry, but the unexpected news had caused her delay.

  “Did you hear? The Corps pushed the familiars north and closed the rift!” proclaimed a man in an ochre jumpsuit as he noisily joined his colleagues. She thought his face seemed familiar—likely someone she had seen among the intermediaries before—but she didn’t know his name. Out of the tens of thousands in the shelter, she had spoken face-to-face with only a few.

  “Is that true? Sounds like a bad joke. As if people have any chance,” a woman replied, shaking her head, her small red curls bouncing off her shoulders.

  “If the information is public, it’s verified. Just wait, in an hour, this’ll be all anyone talks about. I don’t know who they sold their souls to, but it worked! Humanity still has a chance!” The man’s broad smile spread like a ripple, bringing color back to the dull gray faces. Excited murmurs rose around them.

  “It can’t be!” the woman squealed, pinching her hollow cheek. After another reassurance from her companion, she hiccupped, and as if something had snapped, burst into hearty laughter.

  But not everyone saw the situation in such optimistic tones. A tall, thin technician in a standard blue uniform slapped his hand against the wall, his tone breaking through the celebratory mood. “Maybe the Corps managed something, but we’re talking about the smallest rift. There’s more than one of those things hanging over us. Did you forget? The resistance. Hah! This is nonsense. Our only chance is to dig deeper and hope they don’t find us.”

  The woman’s curls bounced as she retorted, “And how long are we supposed to hide underground? Until the world turns to dust? A monster will still show up at our doorstep.”

  “As long as the core’s functioning, we’re safe. The ‘mages’ know what they’re doing,” the tall man responded sharply.

  “Mages? Please! Who’s to say those same ‘mages’ won’t turn into the next monsters?”

  “Don’t start with those rumors! We’re lucky someone can bear the load and keep this place running.”

  “Convince yourself of that first. Just wait, the next rift will open right under your nose.” She stomped her foot for emphasis, pointing at the ground beneath him—then gasped when her gaze fell on a figure pressed against the wall. The pesky hiccup returned.

  “Watch your words!” her recent debate opponent fizzed, averting his eyes from the girl. They had different views on the role of observers, but their shared attitude toward them was almost laughably similar.

  The girl slipped past them and entered the control zone, immediately pushing aside the details of their conversation. “They really can be closed,” she muttered, stroking the engraving on her simple metal bracelet. She knew too much to trust the idle talk of strangers, but a slight smile still touched her lips.

  Meanwhile, the system scanned her retina, unlocking the mirror-smooth door.

  ***

  The mysterious zero level.

  According to official records, this was where the core—the heart of the shelter—was located, the only defense keeping the island hidden in the middle of the ocean. Access to the core was strictly limited to a select few, and even those with permission rarely entered without urgent necessity.

  The door creaked open, groaning like an ancient beast. A heavy weight seemed to fall on Seraphima, each step feeling like a hundred. The humidity in the corridor had risen, and condensation dripped from the walls. The stale air carried a sweet, damp scent tinged with rust.

  Around the corner, from the main hall, a tense male voice echoed. It resonated with restrained emotion, occasionally punctuated by hissing sounds through clenched teeth.

  “The weed’s acting up again,” she thought, biting her lip. She couldn’t afford to delay.

  The core hall, over twenty-five meters high, would have resembled a vast field—if it weren’t overtaken by a growing forest. In the past few hours, the amount of wood had multiplied, swallowing the metal structures.

  “No wonder the senior’s been delayed.” The girl curled her lips as a young man noticed her and spread his arms wide, displaying the wild “beauty” blooming around the core. With the sharp movement, a tag engraved with the same design as the one on the girl’s bracelet slipped from his neck. All observers wore such trinkets without exception.

  “Finally,” he groaned. No one felt good spending too much time in this place, but they couldn’t risk leaving their guest alone—evident from the chaotic landscape around them. “As if false alarms weren’t enough, now this thing’s acting up.” He flicked blue sap from his sleeve but only smeared it, squinting his snake-like silver eyes.

  “The rift was closed,” instead of greetings, this reached the ears of the senior observer.

  The young man’s face fell. His reaction wasn’t to the information but to the fact that she’d spoken. “What? Oh, you just found out? That’s old news. If you’d bothered visiting headquarters, you would’ve known three days ago.” He kicked a creeping white root and continued, “The sector heads are in an uproar, and while your old man hides in his lab, I’m stuck dealing with it.”

  She nodded absently, her attention on the new sprouts emerging from the metal at her companion’s feet. “What’s bothering it? I need to check,” she thought, diving into the tangled thicket of roots and branches.

  After considerable effort, she reached the center of the hall, where a ten-meter matte black cube hovered in the air. A monotonous hum, like a prayer, vibrated from its smooth walls. The closer she got, the more a prickling sensation spread across her skin. Numbness in her limbs turned into cramps. The harmful environment for humans reigned on the zero level for the benefit of its true inhabitant.

  Pale roots surrounding the cube vibrated in rhythm with its hum, absorbing it. The forest was growing uncontrollably, craving to consume the black heart. Its branches intertwined, forming sharp towers like a cradle, leaning dangerously close to the core.

  The senior observer cursed behind her. “Build your castles somewhere else! Just try to damage the core, and I’ll chop you into firewood myself!” He had lost the last of his composure.

  His emotions spilled out, surrounding the room in a violet-lilac veil. The air grew heavy, crackling with tension.

  “Another seed has sprouted,” the girl whispered, observing the changes in his body.

  He shot her a heavy glance.

  “I know.” Running a hand through his dark wavy hair, he restored order to himself, regaining control over his power. His aura dissipated, along with the sweetly bitter intoxicating aroma. “And there’s definitely something wrong with you.”

  Instead of answering, the girl stepped toward and ran her hand over the wall of the towering structure above her. The rough, porous stone-like surface felt warm to the touch.

  Her focus shifted inward, her lips moved silently. The senior observer had witnessed this interaction many times, yet it still sent shivers down his spine.

  ***

  “Astarta,” purred the velvety voice in her head.

  Seraphima habitually corrected it. “No. It’s me. And yesterday… or was it today? That was me too. But that doesn’t matter. Take your roots away from the core.”

  “Beings are united by blood, yet they call themselves by different names,” the voice flowed like honey, wrapping around every cell in her body.

  “You have one mother root, yet you separate yourself from others like you. And why did you leave the archive, anyway?”

  “Shug knows who he is,” the voice muttered, raising another white tower beside the black cube. It stubbornly ignored the questions that didn’t resonate with it.

  “Our names don’t define our essence, unlike Shug. They mean nothing.” The girl wearily rubbed her forehead. “You don’t belong here. Go back to the archive, and I’ll find new stories for you.”

  A grumbling sound echoed in her mind. “This place is no longer safe.”

  “There’s no safer place in this world.”

  “The being must open the rift, release Shug as it has done before,” the voice took on a tone she had only heard in her dreams—the first time she encountered the curious, childlike, yet fear-stricken creature. Despite its hopeless situation, it—calling itself Shug—clung to life, crying out for help with its fading strength.

  “You and all your kin.”

  “Ghyrlk,” Shug snorted. Pale branches above the young observer’s head shook, showering her with blue pollen, causing her to sneeze loudly. “Shug has broken away from the common root. Shug needs his own root now.”

  She wrinkled her nose and hid behind a handkerchief. “If my father could hear you, you two would definitely understand each other.” Her gaze fell on the bracelet gleaming on her wrist, engraved with the emblem of the observers—“M.A.Ge.blood.” These initials were all that remained of her mother—Maelisar Astarta Gemheart. The first to make contact with Shug, a connection that had ultimately claimed her life. “I should’ve listened to you. What’s left now of the world you loved so much that you sacrificed your life for it?” her eyelashes trembled, but when she looked up, there was no weakness in her eyes.

  “Don’t forget what you promised.” Her voice was firm. She wasn’t pleading with an irrational child, but instructing it.

  A minute passed, then five. Slowly, the roots of the pale forest began to move. The towers surrounding the core crumbled, turning to ash. She watched as the forest collapsed like autumn leaves, covering the floor until not a single tree remained in the hall.

  In front of her, a white fluffy ball, resembling a dandelion, floated in the air. Mimicking her appearance, two enormous eyes appeared on its round body, and a milky vine coiled from its top.

  “May the heavens punish those who break the oath of honor,” Shug imitated his favorite characters, but the sound came from the opposite side of the hall, vibrating and shifting in tone. “True to his heart, true to his people.”

  Suddenly, red light flooded the hall, and a deafening siren blared, plunging the zero level into chaos. Shug darted around the core, blue sparks flying from his body, mingling with the rising ash, which sprouted as it settled on the floor.

  “This will never end, will it?” the senior observer groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Damn system. How many times has this happened already? Calm it down. The alert will turn off soon.”

  But despite the senior’s confident tone, the alarm didn’t stop. Even he began to sense something was wrong.

  At that moment, a young woman burst into the hall. Her too-small gray jumpsuit clung to her heaving chest, and her black eyes flashed with lightning.

  “Mak! Are you deaf? The alarm!” she shouted, gasping for breath as she braced herself against the open partition. She had neither the strength nor the time to explain, and she frantically waved toward the notifications on the operations panel.

  With a few quick strides, the senior observer was beside the panel, his hands gliding over it, revealing a cascade of holographic messages.

  Seraphima didn’t need to read them. One look at her colleagues told her everything: this was no false alarm. The shelter had been breached.

  “Who?” the woman choked out.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “Breathe,” Mak growled. “It’s a Corps squad. They’ve infiltrated the ninth level.”

  The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “That fast? What’s going to happen to us?”

  Mak hesitated, scanning the shelter’s layout. The breach had occurred through the less protected filtration system on the seventh level. There were no fortified gates there, relying instead on the shelter’s camouflage.

  “Nothing will happen to us. None of the humans are infected. They’ll see an ordinary shelter with fifty-seven levels.” He turned sharply toward the door and ordered, “Ide, gather everyone.” Then, returning to the system messages, he muttered, “But still, how did they find out? And where are the sector heads in moments like this? Damn old fools.”

  Seraphima had never noticed that the senior had a habit of speaking out loud. But the situation was extraordinary. His usual mask of confidence had slipped, revealing the young man beneath—the one burdened with immense responsibility.

  The woman closed her fingers around the tag on her chest, and immediately, Seraphima’s bracelet vibrated with alternating long and short waves, signaling a special alert meant for a select few. She confirmed receipt of the order.

  Meanwhile, the woman’s tag emitted a series of notification sounds as responses came in. All but one checked in. She sent the order again, but still, no response. Wasting no time, she rushed to the panel, confirming her access, and reported, “The little one isn’t responding.” Her hands flew across the panel, and in seconds, she pinpointed the target’s location. “She’s in the residential sectors on the ninth level.”

  Mak slammed his fist on the panel, his teeth clenched. The intruders hadn’t left the level for a reason—they were after something.

  “I can’t believe they found her so quickly,” Ide whispered, sending out the assembly message again.

  “Enough. The order is to seal the door.” Mak’s eyes were fixed on the brief command, reading it over and over as if that might change its meaning. The girl was no older than nine, but the Corps spared no one carrying Shug.

  Mak turned abruptly to the girl, who stood frozen near the core. His brow furrowed as he wrestled with his internal conflict. “We have to try,” he muttered, then said more firmly, “If there’s a chance, you’re going to get her out.”

  Seraphima recoiled, thinking she had misheard. “But what about the order?”

  “To hell with the order. If the Corps gets to her, one squad won’t be enough. They’ll tear the shelter apart to find the source of the infection.” His voice was unwavering, as if he could already see the destruction ahead.

  Ide nodded and turned to the girl. “They won’t find anything in her, so she’s our only option.”

  “No, that’s not right. No one should leave zero level during an alarm,” she mumbled. Her thoughts tangled in confusion. She had followed the rules for so long that even considering disobedience caused her physical pain.

  Mak gave a crooked smile. “Better to do nothing and let it all fall apart—is that what you mean? Who are you protecting: the rules or the people? Because right now, you don’t look like a person.”

  Seraphima trembled, feeling a heavy, oppressive weight suffocate her. “I don’t want to cause more harm. So why am I wrong? Not everyone can be saved, and if I hadn’t been so soft-hearted before, none of this would’ve happened.” The realization horrified her. She paled, absorbing Mak’s words.

  Mak saw the icy mask she’d been hiding behind crack. He pressed her further: “Quick. Quiet. And no nonsense.”

  Pieces of her resolve crumbled as doubt tore at her heart, but strangely, it didn’t feel unpleasant. “I can’t keep running from responsibility,” she thought and darted toward the exit.

  From behind her, a loud shout echoed: “Mindless creature, just try to touch the core! I don’t have to see you to melt your roots into the ground!”

  ***

  She realized she was too late the moment she reached the ninth level.

  The residential sector was in chaos. Its inhabitants stood wide-eyed, staring at the intruders—tall, imposing military men in earthy-colored uniforms. Their faces were hidden behind reinforced masks with built-in filters. Blocking one of the exits to the main assembly hall, the intruders prevented anyone from leaving. Yet, no one even tried. The Corps members held their activated weapons lowered, demonstrating both their superiority over potential threats and a measured restraint toward the civilians.

  One soldier pointed a strange device at the shelter’s residents, who wore multicolored jumpsuits. He didn’t glance at the people; his focus was fixed on the data flickering on a portable panel strapped to his wrist. After some time, he nodded to one of his comrades, a man whose overwhelming presence set him apart from the rest.

  “Must be the squad captain,” the girl thought as she watched him.

  After receiving confirmation, the captain removed his mask and inhaled deeply, a look of satisfaction crossing his face. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, with light-golden hair tied tightly at the back, giving his sharp, angular features an even more defined appearance. His square, determined chin and high-held head exuded a sense of superiority, while his amber eyes gleamed with command. It was exactly how she had imagined an elite Corps member—the last bastion of humanity’s resistance.

  In front of him stood a small girl in gray, and the contrast between them was striking. The girl gazed at the soldiers with warm, curious brown eyes, her freckled nose twitching as she sniffed the air, imagining this must be what the surface smelled like.

  “Why did they pull her from the crowd? Do they already know?” Seraphima’s heart pounded. She could hardly imagine what to do, but seeing the soldiers exchange words, her feet carried her forward instinctively.

  Her movement didn’t go unnoticed. The soldiers raised his device toward her. Even though she knew there was no trace of Shug in her body, her heart raced wildly. The device remained silent, and the soldier returned to the conversation.

  She heard his words, spoken with deliberate emphasis: “I admit, she doesn’t look like it. But my machine rarely makes mistakes.” The soldier he spoke to removed his mask and, smiling at the girl, patted her head. He looked almost exactly like the captain, only younger by a couple of decades. The only thing that set him apart was the amber bead bracelet dangling from his wrist.

  “She’s about the same age as your sister, so you don’t see her as a familiar,” the soldier with the detector added sarcastically. He smirked, but it faded quickly as his frightened gaze darted toward the captain, who had remained silent until now. “Sorry, Cap. I spoke without thinking.”

  The younger man’s smile faltered, and a shadow crossed his face. “What’s your name? Where are your parents?” he asked the girl.

  “Cass,” she answered softly. After hearing the mention of familiars, her face had gone pale. She shifted nervously, glancing at the others in the shelter, but no one stepped forward to defend her.

  The captain’s gaze darkened as it fixed on the girl.

  “How long have you been in this shelter?” the younger man asked again.

  Cass nodded hesitantly, then added, “A long time.” Spotting someone in the crowd with a jumpsuit matching hers, she clutched the fabric of her pants, and her face brightened.

  The captain noticed the shift in her demeanor and quickly located the source.

  Seraphima caught his gaze, and a chill ran down her spine. He hadn’t moved, yet she felt as if a noose was tightening around her neck. His eyes followed her, and wherever his gaze lingered, her skin prickled, as if pierced by invisible needles.

  “She can’t be the only one. Neutralize the suspect,” the captain ordered. He had set the bait, and now he waited for someone to take it.

  “Yes,” one of the intruders responded immediately, grabbing the girl by the elbow and dragging her toward the corridor. She screamed, reaching out to the motionless crowd, her eyes wide with terror as silent pleas escaped her lips.

  Seraphima’s hand clenched around her bracelet, her knuckles white from the pressure.

  “He doesn’t know. He can’t know. It’s a bluff,” her inner voice insisted. Logic screamed at her: any display of her power would doom the entire base. She knew all too well the cost of rash, impulsive decisions. Yet the spicy scent in the hall had become unbearable.

  Her thoughts emptied, her mind cleared, and she knew what she had to do. She stepped toward Cass.

  “The captain’s on a roll today. What’s wrong with this shelter, anyway?” a deep male voice echoed. More intruders entered the hall from the southern entrance, followed by two technicians in blue suits.

  Among the newcomers, one soldier stood apart. Unlike the others, his black equipment was distinct, not just in color but in quality. He wore no mask and, strikingly, was unarmed. He appeared no older than the soldier with the amber bracelet.

  “These technicians agreed to activate the platform for us. We can descend, assuming you’ve finished exceeding your authority,” he said with a smirk, his sharply defined lips curling. His well-formed features drew attention, but there was something else about him—an alien, hostile force, terrifying in its power.

  The soldier with the detector hissed, visibly irritated, and glared at the man in black. “While you’re part of our squad, be mindful of what you say and to whom, Tain.”

  Tain ran a hand through his short black hair. “Our collaboration brings me endless joy,” he said, dripping sarcasm. “Find other methods for your interrogations. It’s obvious the child isn’t a familiar. If the plague were close, it would have already taken over her mind.”

  “Defending your kind?!” the soldier snapped. “I’ll be the first to shoot you, demon!”

  Tain’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile, his black eyes gleaming with malice. “If you’re so eager to pull the trigger, I’d be happy to oblige. Though I doubt you’d enjoy the outcome.”

  “Quiet,” the captain growled, and his men immediately fell silent. He turned his attention to Tain. “Your mission is to destroy Shug. You haven’t found anything, so leave the rest to us.”

  Tain’s eyes narrowed, head tilting slightly. “Captain, you’ve been hiding the details of this operation a bit too carefully. Is there something in this shelter I shouldn’t know about?”

  The soldiers’ gazes flicked to the captain, confusion etched on their faces.

  The captain’s jaw tightened. “With your level of access, hardly anyone in the Corps can compare. And that’s understandable. The one who closed the rift—a human.” His upper lip curled as though the words tasted bitter. “I can’t afford to waste your valuable time on a routine inspection.”

  “I’m staying,” Tain declared, leaving no room for debate.

  The captain’s teeth ground together. He reluctantly waved his hand, and his subordinate had no choice but to release the girl’s elbow. Cass exhaled noisily, her body flooded with relief. Though tears welled in her eyes, she didn’t take them off the girl with the bright blue eyes, afraid she might be a mirage.

  Seraphima sighed, trying to calm her racing heart. She hadn’t expected to get this lucky, and she couldn’t help but think how close she had come to revealing herself.

  “Hello,” a deep voice sounded next to her. “Is she your sister?”

  She flinched, quickly looking up. The man in black stood beside her, his gaze making it clear he was speaking to her.

  “No,” she barely managed to reply.

  “Really? You seem quite close.” His lips curved into a smile, softening his features. “Will you show me around your shelter? I’d like to meet the administrator and ask a few questions. I fear the system won’t let us past the common sectors.”

  Seraphima’s heart pounded, her palms damp as her mind raced. The silence stretched on until Tain chuckled lightly.

  He leaned closer, as if to share a secret. “Don’t worry. No harm will come. Satisfying the Corps’ curiosity brings considerable benefits—your shelter could gain access to the public information network. And if your camouflage system goes down again, you won’t be left defenseless. You can trust me.”

  “If he knew I was the one who brought Shug into this world, he wouldn’t be acting so friendly,” she thought. Something in Tain’s words unsettled her. “What is he talking about? How could the camouflage system go offline if the core is functioning, and the weed hasn’t let anyone near it lately?” Her eyes widened at the realization.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t,” she whispered, barely audible. The situation in the shelter was critical, and something about these strangers felt off. Her instincts screamed for her to get away from them as quickly as possible.

  To her surprise, Tain sighed and took a step back, giving her space. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

  This man wasn’t like anyone else. The energy he emitted felt more like Shug’s than that of an observer—or any human for that matter.

  “Who is he?” she wondered, shaking her head.

  “No,” she said aloud.

  “I’m glad. Usually, people agree with me out of fear. I won’t insist. Those two have already agreed.” He extended his hand for a handshake. “I hope we get a chance to talk again. You already know my name, but I didn’t catch yours.”

  “He’s testing me,” she realized, eyeing his outstretched hand. This time, she had no choice. “Seraphima,” she whispered, her pale fingers brushing against his wide palm in greeting.

  The instant their hands touched, searing heat surged from Tain’s palm, spreading through her body like wildfire. She gasped, her fingers twitching in a futile attempt to pull away. It wasn’t just pain—something insidious was burrowing inside her, feeding off her very soul. Panic gripped her, and she exhaled loudly, her eyes filled with reproach as they locked onto his face.

  Tain’s eyes changed, the irises filling with liquid gold. He wasn’t seeing her anymore, and he wasn’t in control of what was happening. Gritting her teeth, she did what she always did with the inhabitant of zero level. “Enough,” she commanded firmly.

  Tain flinched, snapping back to himself. Unlike the girl, he seemed to relish the connection and showed no remorse. The demon within him purred with satisfaction. Her energy had calmed the inferno inside him. He grabbed her wrist, finally gaining full control over his power—the power that the Corps had extracted from the being known as Shug.

  Golden sparks flickered around Tain, hissing as they hit the metal floor, igniting into black flames. The air in the hall grew thick, making it hard to breathe.

  At the sight of the strange fire, the shelter’s residents dropped to their knees as though welcoming a deity descending into their world.

  A sudden beep shattered the reverent silence. The soldiers, looking startled, realized his detector was emitting a series of signals—clear evidence of a positive result.

  The captain didn’t react. His eyes were locked on the girl, whose hand Tain still held.

  His lips parted slowly. “Now it remembers where it felt that scent.” His voice was high-pitched and melodic, a tone that didn’t belong to him.

  Tain pulled the girl closer. She could feel the rapid beating of his heart—a human heart. “He’s not one of them,” she thought with unexpected relief. The captain’s transformation suddenly seemed insignificant in comparison.

  The soldiers surrounded the captain, weapons raised. Those closest to the civilians pulled them off their knees and pushed them back.

  “Captain,” the amber-eyed soldier called, his voice filled with disbelief. “Father.”

  “T-titch,” hissed the high-pitched voice. The captain’s lips didn’t move. Instead, his skin began to melt, the slits of his eyes fusing together.

  “Demon!” a woman screamed, fleeing in terror. Panic spread through the crowd, and the people followed, knocking each other to the ground in their blind rush to escape.

  The soldiers were caught in a difficult position. They didn’t know whether to aim their weapons at the captain or at Tain.

  The soldier with the detector spoke into his comm, “Central. Squad “Gold”. Contact confirmed. I repeat, contact confirmed.” A concerned voice crackled through the receiver, “Is it Tain?” The soldier glanced at the grotesque form his captain was becoming, hesitated, then replied, “No. It’s the captain.”

  The captain’s body convulsed, limbs stretching unnaturally as his skin tore away, exposing veins filled with sickly green blood. His mouth twisted into a jagged, tooth-filled maw, something no human could possess. With every passing second, he became less of a man and more of a nightmare.

  “Damn it,” one of the squad members cursed. “He’s a familiar! How long has he been one? How did we miss this?”

  The amber-eyed soldier paled, unable to call the creature his father. He retreated to the corner, where the little girl, Cass, was huddled, biting her fist to stifle her sobs.

  Meanwhile, the creature finished transforming. Sharp claws sank into the metal floor as though it were butter, and its forked tongue stretched toward Seraphima, drawn to her energy.

  “For so long, the Mother has been calling the creature. How dare it choose the company of a rotten, insignificant branch?” The melodic voice echoed through the hall, as if speaking directly into her mind. “Soon, Shug will reunite with the mother root.”

  “There’s no way I’m opening that rift again!” the girl hissed. The mention of the vile creature, trapped in its dying world, ignited a fire in her heart. Hatred clouded her vision, turning the world red. “For what that thing did to my mom, and to me, let it rot!”

  Tain tightened his grip on her wrist, his voice cutting through her storm of thoughts. “What does that mean?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied her anger-distorted face.

  She lost control. Words that should have remained hidden spilled from her lips before she could stop them.

  “Who are you?” Tain’s voice grew cold.

  She yanked her hand free from his grasp, slapping a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The words were out. There was no hiding now—from the Corps, who would see her as the source of all this, or from Shug, who wanted her to bring an even more ravenous creature into this world. All she had wanted was to save the fading voice that had helped her mother escape a nightmare, sacrificing its own strength to do so. But that voice had not come alone—its root had dragged others into this world, destroying and altering everything they touched.

  The detector on the soldier’s wrist let out a shrill, continuous alarm. “Masks!” he shouted, covering his face as the others quickly followed suit. The amber-eyed soldier, instead of moving to contain the familiar, scooped Cass into his arms, clamping his hand over her mouth and nose. Seraphima saw him disappear into the corridor before an unseen force threw her sideways.

  “The shelter is no longer safe! Evacuate! Any contact leads to infection!” members of the Corps shouted to the panicked crowd as they rushed out.

  The familiar arched its back. “The creature will obey,” it growled, leaping forward, green droplets flying from its body.

  But Tain stood in its path, and though the creature tried to avoid him—the black flame scorched its hind leg.

  Seraphima scrambled to her feet and ran for the emergency platform, not daring to look back. The platform didn’t rise higher than the general hall on the ninth level, so no one had considered it for evacuation. Twelve grueling seconds later, she found herself on the first level. Her legs carried her through the familiar labyrinth of steel and light. The system reacted long before her arrival, which meant the observers knew what was happening. But no matter how fast she ran, she could feel the breath of doom on the back of her neck.

  She reached the entrance to zero level just as a deafening crash nearly overwhelmed her. The ceiling collapsed, and black flames poured through the opening. The nimble familiar emerged, its charred skin sizzling and crackling, fumes rising from its burned flesh. The battle was closing in.

  She dove through the narrow gap of the protective door to zero level, which slammed shut behind her. Still, safety felt distant.

  Rushing into the main hall, she found the emergency capsules already partially filled, launching one by one into the transfer shafts. Her father and several observers were working at the holographic screens surrounding the black cube in the center of the room.

  “Are we really going to use this?” she thought.

  She hurried to her father, her voice trembling as she reported what he already knew. “They found out about me.”

  Her father hesitated for a brief moment. “Ide has activated your capsule,” he said, nodding toward one. “We’ll take care of the rest.”

  “We have to leave! They’re demons!” she grabbed his arm in desperation.

  He looked at her with the same blue eyes. His calm gaze, which had avoided her for years, was now fully focused on her again.

  Memories surged through her mind—of the precise moment they had both withdrawn into themselves; of the long-lost evenings spent together, now only a distant memory. She had felt abandoned but had never voiced it, fearing the answer would confirm what she dreaded most: that her father blamed her.

  “The capsule will absorb the core’s primary impulse. If we’re lucky, we’ll forget today as if it were a bad dream.” His voice was so calm that the girl felt she was losing him again.

  She paled. “But what about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me. We’re almost done here. We’ll follow you right after.” His tone, however, hinted at something else. “When you reach the surface, find our weed. He won’t survive without guidance. And tell him I’d like to know what they were talking about.”

  A crash echoed from the door. Grinding metal mixed with the sound of hissing flames, and the smell of burning filled the core hall. The sense of impending doom hung heavy in the air.

  “Who? The familiar? Tain?” she peered into the smoke as golden sparks flew, swallowing every trace of green in the air.

  Her father pushed her toward the capsule. “Go! Now!” But she couldn’t move, mesmerized by the deity-like figure emerging from the smoke.

  Tain stepped into the light, no longer resembling a man. His eyes glowed gold, and intricate golden patterns spread across his darkened skin, reflecting the fire within. He looked up at the swirling blue lights near the ceiling—traces of Shug’s presence. He extended his hand, and one of the blue fireflies landed in his palm. But as it touched the golden patterns, it jerked away in fear, only to be consumed by the black flame.

  “This is my future. My punishment,” the girl thought, realizing that any attempt to escape Tain was futile. But the familiar didn’t agree. It lunged at Tain, its fanged jaws sinking into him. The black flame engulfed both of them.

  Her father’s voice snapped her back to reality. “Suri!” Just as he had when she was a child, his stern voice cut through her trance. She darted toward the last remaining capsule, leaping inside.

  Her father and Mak finished their work with the core and rushed after her. Mak jumped into his capsule, but her father hesitated.

  The black flame spread rapidly, swallowing the hall. Her father approached her capsule, pulling a card from his work suit—a photo. Her picture. He inserted it into the empty capsule. “I reserved my place. This photo means a lot to me. I’ll never leave it behind.”

  “Father, don’t you dare!” she screamed, frantically trying to cancel the program, but the system wouldn’t respond.

  “Ide locked the mechanism. You’re still the same—always thinking of others. I knew which capsule you’d choose.” He smiled, the same familiar smile she hadn’t seen in so long. “See you in a few minutes.”

  The launch began. Everything blurred as her world faded, and she understood everything in the moment her father’s voice vanished into the black veil clouding her mind.

  “It’s all my fault,” she thought, the weight of her guilt almost unbearable. “I brought this on us… on them. The weed was right. Maybe my name really does define my fate.” Time seemed to stop. Her excuses—like anyone who had made grave mistakes—couldn’t ease her pain. But she couldn’t hide anymore. “If I could do it all over again,” she thought. But instead of seeking redemption, she found the desire to change for what lay ahead. “I will change.” A strange calm settled over her. “I won’t let fear or guilt control my choices anymore. I will no longer close my eyes to my mistakes but will correct them. Even if it means standing alone. This is my path, and I will see it through to the end.”